Son of Difference
by Tawnyblood
Summary: Based on Daughter of White Part of the Daughter of Evil series sung by Haku Yowane.


_AN: I'm back with more short stories for the PruCan archive~ This one is based on Daughter of White sang by Haku Yowane.  
Warnings: Don't read the lyrics for Daughter of White (you'll blow everything), character deaths, angst, and I barely make it to the PruCan line. BARELY. Hur hur, there are pancakes though. 8'D_

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* * *

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"I'm sorry for being alive." A man with curly golden locks matted to his face murmured to his plush of a polar bear. He winces at his own words, but makes no note to change his words for the future. It's a habit that he will keep on saying. He will keep on saying it until something comes along that makes him think otherwise.

He shifts in his place in the mud and peers up at the tall canopy of trees, watching as the rain washes over everything and wipes all impurities away like the dirt on his only companion's fur. He presses the toy closer to his chest as he bitterly wonders if anybody even remembered that he was out here.

"I bet nobody even remembers me." He tells the bear, picking up his empty basket and placing it onto his head for some shelter against the rain. He blows the one curly strand of hair away from his face and watches it disappear from view and appear again. "Maybe I should just stay here and die. It's not like anyone will notice…" Matthew mumbles into Kumajiro's –the polar bear—fur. "They always say that I'm always quietly complaining." He pauses afterwards, a thoughtful look on his face before it disappears and a sorrowful scowl takes its place. "My life is a meaningless existence."

Matthew bitterly wishes that Francis never adopted him. Never took him out of the orphanage, never took him away from his brother, and never brought him to this village. Everybody in the village has beautiful eyes. He's an outcast, with his oddly colored eyes that nobody else has and wishes to look at.

He's alone.

* * *

Mattie continues deeper and deeper into the forest, a basket filled with fruit and food in one hand, and Kumajiro in the other. He clutches his cloak tighter around his figure, shivering lightly from the cold that was left over from yesterday's downpour. He continues trekking through the thick foliage because deep in the forest stands an old tree.

After countless minutes of hiking and jumping over fallen branches, Matthew stands in front of an old tree. The scarred brown skin of the limps reach high up into the heavens, dew sparkling on its leaves. Matthew sets his basket onto the ground and clutches Kumajiro close to his chest as he peers up at the old tree. He sets his plush on top of the food and clasps his hands together.

"God, I always come here alone and pray to you." He starts each prayer the same and squeezes his hands tighter. "Living all alone… is very sad. I know this is very selfish of me, but I just want someone, anyone to be my friend." He leans down pushing back his gold curls as he plucks a single blue cornflower from the basket and sets it down against the base of the tree. "I'm sorry that it's not a lot of flowers like before, but I wanted to pick the nicest looking one for you."

He steps back to stare at the brilliant blue flower that seems so delicate among the thick and giant roots. He smiles and pushes the glasses up higher on his nose before picking up the basket and heading back.

Please don't let him be as delicate as the flower seems.

* * *

The next morning, Matthew wraps the cloak around his slender figure before heading off into the forest. In one hand was a basket filled with flowers of different colors, a rainbow, and in his other hand was Kumajiro.

He looks up at the tall trees, watches the bright specks of blue that are lucky to make it through the thick deep green foliage. He clambers over fallen branches and talks to his only companion. A sense of loneliness fills him when he remembers that Kumajiro won't respond. He's alone.

And that was where he met him, lying near the old tree.

"What… the… HELL." He mumbles to himself as he cautiously approaches the figure that doesn't seem to move. It better not be some drunken guy or dead guy. He doesn't know how he'll react if it was one.

Matthew pokes at the body with his toe, his yellow eyebrows furrowed and Kumajiro's beady black eyes staring intently at the other male. He stifles the scream that almost ripped itself from his throat when the man clad in blue stirred. Matthew craned his head when he thought he heard the stranger mumble something along the lines of, "This… so… not awesome."

"Sir?" He whispers as he kneels down next to the figure. He hovers over the figure, waiting for a response, but none came. "Sir?" He questioned again, tapping the man's oddly colored hair: silver with some red and rusty brown mixed in. Matthew quickly pulled his hand away at the surprisingly warm feeling that came to his fingers.

"What the…" He says, his soft voice wavering and his blue-violet eyes widening at the sight of warm blood on his fingers. Matthew quickly wiped it off on the nearest surface (poor Kumajiro, he's going to need a good soak later) and tries his best to flip the injured man onto his back without pain.

A low and drawn out moan was heard as the stranger was flipped onto his back and his head shifts a bit. Matthew's face blanched at the sight of the blood pouring down the stranger's pale face and with a quivering hand, he tries to wipe some of the blood off. _Total failure_. He noted to himself as he tries to wipe off the blood on his shaking hands. He quickly rips a long strip of cloth from his cloak and hastily ties it around the stranger's head, violently shaking fingers fumbling every second.

"I am so screwed." Mattie tells a blood caked Kumajiro as he tries to pick up the injured man and failing… well, horribly. He casts a shy glance at the figure before quickly looking away, a red blush coming to his cheeks at the odd position the man was in after falling off his back. He kind of looked like a marionette…

He takes off his cloak and wraps it tightly around the unconscious man's body before trying to pick him up. A stumble in his step and Mattie carefully squats down to pick up his bear and sets him on the stranger's stomach before making a seriously mad dash out of the forest and into the hospital.

* * *

"You're lucky you brought him here when you did. Any longer and he would have died from blood loss." The doctor told Mattie, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the still unconscious man settled in the bed. He stares at the bandaged body of the man before shaking his head, his glasses slipping down a bit. "He's really lucky."

"I-I realize that Doctor Edelstein, thank you for caring for him."

"It's not a problem, there is a reason why I became a doctor…" The Austrian replied before switching his gaze onto the male seated in front of him. A frown was on his face as he stared at Matthew's bowed head, his hair obscuring his face from view. "Can you lift up your face? That posture's bad for your neck."

"I'm fine like this…"

"It's bad for you neck, just lift up your head."

And so Mattie died, blue-purple eyes flitting to the side to avoid watching the doctor's nose wrinkle up in disgust.

He pushed the glasses up higher onto his nose, violet eyes gazing scornfully at the other male's eyes. "You're eyes are…"

"I know…"

"Maybe it's best to keep your head down…"

* * *

"Hey, Kid. You're the one that found me, aren't you?" An unfamiliar voice asked, snapping the blonde out of his dozing. His head snaps upwards and bleary eyes still laden with sleep search the room for the source of the voice, resting when they meet with deep ruby-red eyes that seemed to shine in the dimly lit room.

"… Yeah. How's your head?"

"Ha ha, it has seen more awesomer times, but… fine I guess."

The room soon drifted into silence as both parties tried to see the other through the darkness. Totally fed up with the silence and the unawesome squinting, the man in the bed spoke up. "Hey, come here. I want to see you."

And with some hesitation, the blonde picked up his chair and carried it to the bed. His face was a lively shade of red when he feels the stranger's probing gaze watching his every move. He folds his hands in his laps, feeling a bit odd sitting next to a naked and bandaged stranger in his pajamas.

"The name is Weilschmidt, Gilbert Weilschmidt."

"I'm Matthew Williams…"

"Matthew Williams? That's a pretty cool name… not as awesome as mine though…"

Matthew smiled.

* * *

It didn't take long for the two of them to become close. Especially since after they got out of the hospital and supposedly parted ways, Gilbert stalked Matthew to his house and came bursting in demanding food when his papa was serving up dinner for the two of them.

Oh the odd looks Gilbert got from both Francis and Matthew.

But the odd looks disappeared after the silverette's fifth unannounced visit to the household for some of Matthew's "very goddamn awesome pancakes" as he put it.

Matthew cast a shy glance over to his companion's direction from where he sat in the meadow munching on a plate of pancakes drowning in maple syrup that he packed for snacks (at Gilbert's whining). The maple syrup came in a bottle, just clearing that up.

His blue eyes with that swirl of purple in them watched Gilbert as he jumped and pranced about, trying to catch some of the little yellow canaries that fluttered about right above his head. The blonde let out a soft chuckle when a yellow chick fluttered down to hide itself in a mess of silver hair and it seemed like the man didn't even notice. Then his eyes trailed downwards to rest on the Prussian blue of the older man's clothing and something clicked in his mind.

The cornflower.

The _blue_ cornflower.

He looked at the man with new eyes, a vague sense of awe washing over him when he realized that the Prussian blue of the man's military-esque clothing was the same brilliant shade of that single blue cornflower he placed among the roots.

Then the doubts and questions came.

_Why is he being so kind to me?_

_Is he just pitying me because I'm so inferior to him?_

_And why did does the thought of that make my chest hurt?_

Matthew and Gilbert are very different; it didn't take a rocket scientist or Einstein to be able to see that. Gilbert with his shaggy and unkempt hair that stuck up in all directions was a pale and beautiful color, a pale off-white color similar to the first snowflake. And his hair, well his hair was nothing special. Gentle curls appear near the end and curve into his face, framing it. And then there was that stupid and stubborn curl of his that sent shivers up his spine whenever somebody touched it.

And then those eyes that everybody in the village put so much weight on. Gilbert's was a deadly and dangerous shade of red, luring many people into his home. It was a captivating red that exuded confidence and cockiness unparalleled by anybody else in the village. He had the most beautiful eyes in the village. Matthew, his eyes are a sloppy mixture of blue and violet. It was as if a kid was the one who decided the colors his eyes were going to be. They were large and big, almost childlike, but what you see in those eyes weren't pretty…

Why was Gilbert friends with him again?

Why was he in love with Gilbert again?

Those morbid thoughts shattered like glass when he felt a warm and strong arms wrap themselves around him and somebody's face nestling into the crook of his neck. Small tufts of white hair tickled his nose and he cringed as Gilbert murmured, "You're the most awesome person I've ever met." He could feel the smirk against his skin.

He cried in his arms.

And was silenced by a pair of warm lips against his.

* * *

_Even if the entire world laughed and despised me…_

_I had a person who needed me._

_That's all I need to be happy._

_

* * *

_

The two of them walked away from the village, never looking back at the faces of the people they have come to known and grown up with. There was nothing left for the two of them. Francis developed a case of homesickness and moved back to France, bidding his only son a tearful farewell when he departed a month before. Nobody remembers Mattie and nobody cared about Gilbert. They would not be missed and so they left, feeling freer than they had in years.

And they lived in the city, and even though everything seems unfamiliar, it was okay because they were together.

Mattie and Gilbo busied themselves with their job under the control of a wealthy merchant.

The blonde tugged at his black uniform, the shirt shorter than what he was used to. In his hand he held a long broom and out the corner of his eye he could see the merchant, trying to tell his Korean husband to go back to work. In retaliation, the Korean pounced the Chinamen with a loud cry of, "Never! Da-ze~!" A small smile came to his face at the sight.

"We picked a good place to work, didn't we?"

Looking over his shoulder the smile grew even larger at the twinkle in Gilbert's dark ruby eyes. He turned back in time to see a Taiwanese woman trying to pry the clingy husband from her boss. And if he squinted his beautiful eyes in a certain way, Matthew could see a certain Hungarian woman taking pictures of the event.

"We picked a really good place."

* * *

"Mattie! Mattie!"

Said man tipped his head to the side at the sound of his name and looked over his shoulder. Yellow eyebrows furrowed at the sight of Elizabeta dashing to him as quick as her legs could go, her black skirt hitched up to her knee.

She stopped in front of him, slumping up against the wall as she tried to catch her breath, chest heaving with each breath. Matthew really hoped that he wouldn't have to perform CPR on her…

"Elizabeta? Are you o—"

"There's a man!" She gasped out, glee pulling her lips back to reveal pearly white teeth.

"A man?" Matthew echoes, wondering just where she was going with that. Was he an important patron? How about a duke? Or was he a prince? The blonde shook his head to clear such thoughts; there was no way somebody of that high status would come here. Even if Yao had everything located in one convenient spot.

In her excitement, Elizabeta grips onto the blonde's arm with her vice grip. "A-A man came to by to buy some… things and he saw Gilbert!" She explained, eyes squeezing shut as her smile continues to grow.

"Gilbert? He saw Gilbert?" Mattie repeats, unnoticed worry creeping into his voice at the mention of his sweetheart's name.

Elizabeta failed to notice the anxious cloud that seemed to start forming above the male's head. She furiously nodded her head, the flower in her hair dislodging. "Yes! The man is a prince from across the ocean! Isn't Gilbert such a lucky dog? I need to get pictures."

"Wait—what? What does that have to do with Gilbert?"

"The prince fell in love with him! Isn't that romantic?"

_No…_ He answered, his blue-purple eyes widening. He stares down at his hand and tugs the white glove off to stare blankly at the single golden ring that sat on his fourth finger. The Hungarian caught sight of both the ring and his hand and brought it close to her face for inspection.

"Oh my… i-is this from Gilbert?"

"Where is he?"

"He's in the servant's quarters!"

And with that Matthew rushed south, the quick tapping of heels against tiles sounding behind him.

* * *

"Gi-Gilbert!" The blonde cried out as he threw the door open, a frown on his face and a hovering lady by his shoulder. Said man stared up at his lover from where he sat by the table, currently in the middle of shoveling grand quantities of food into his mouth. At least Elizabeta now knows who keeps eating all the desserts.

"Birdie!" He chirped, some half-chewed food falling out of his mouth as he tried to wipe his mouth. "What's wrong?" He strode over to the smaller male and pulled him into a tight embrace, not minding the wet tears that stained his shoulder.

"The prince..."

"The prince? What about him?"

"The prince, are you going to—"

"Marry him? No. Fuck him in the backseat of a carriage? Well…"

_Thud._

"OW! That really hurts Mattie! Sheesh! It was just a joke, _mein Gott._"

From where she stood, she slapped her face at Gilbert's horrible attempt at cheering up Mattie. She didn't know whether to pity him or to slap him with a pan. Oh the choices. "Gil… you are such a creti—"

"Aiyah! Aiyah! T-This is really bad news, aru!"

The voice laced with a thick Asian accent caught their attention. They stood frozen in place as they listened to the hurried footsteps of Yao. An uncharacteristic look of anxiety overcame the three servants in the quarters and they bunched together at the door, peering out to just what was happening.

A piece of white paper was waved in their faces.

"Did you guys read this yet, aru! Did you!? T-That idiot prince, aru! He just rejected the neighboring King's marriage proposal!"

"W-Wait… what does that mean?"

"It means war, aru. It means war…"

* * *

He tapped his long fingers against the arm of his throne, patiently waiting for his faithful servant to arrive with his glass of vodka. The same twisted and sweet smile was on his perfect face as he continued tapping to a tune that played only in his head. "One head comes off~ And then there goes another~" He sings softly to himself, even as the door to his chambers open wide and in slips his maid carrying his tray of vodka.

The smile on his widens just a margin as he accepts the drink the silver-haired maid offers him. He balances the drink of the palm of his hands, watching the clear liquid swirl around and around in the glass. "Natalia," He starts blinking at the maid as she takes up her spot besides his throne. The smile falters for a second when she fixes him with her unwavering gaze and he looks away before smiling again. "There must not be something right with the prince to decline my marriage proposal, _da_?" He sneaks a playful glance at the woman standing still next to him before continuing. "So today you must realize why I asked you to pour my _best_ vodka, _da_?"

Violet eyes meet with navy blue ones for a split second. Natalia bows her head and nods. A smile of satisfaction creeps onto his face and he brings the rim of the glass to his lip. "Today is a day of celebration!" He chuckles before tipping his heads back, the liquid so close to pouring into his mouth. "Seek out everybody in that mansion and _kill them._"

"… As you wish."

* * *

Matthew returns to the mansion from his trip from the local grocery store to hear screaming, wailing, and the dreadful smell of blood that hung in the air. Blue-violet eyes stared numbly at the burning sight of the mansion alive with fire and his voice is lost in his throat. But he doesn't mind, he knows that if he talks, he'll burst into tears. He lets go of the bags that were full of what was supposed to be their food supply for the war. He takes a ginger step forward.

"H-Hey! You!" Matthew cocks his head to the side, a habit he formed from working long hours in that mansion. He looks to his side to see another male with dark auburn hair marching over to him, something of a half-assed scowl on a face that was streaked with tears and dirt.

"H-Hey!" He repeats with a voice that would have been harsh if it weren't for the quivering in it. He stops in front of the blonde and looks him up and down before wringing his hands. "You're Matthew Williams, right?"

Matthew nods.

Which makes the other man more uncomfortable. He shakes his head a bit, the curl sticking out of his hair bouncing with the action. He struggles to find the right words to say, to comfort the poor male standing numbly in front of him, but all he could say was, "Everybody is dead. You're the only survivor…"

Matthew blinks and stares down at his hand, staring at how the ring on his finger catches the light of the sun and how the fire seems to dance across the metal. The other male follows the blonde's gaze and rests on the ring.

"You're married too, huh?" He asks bitterly. He has to choke back the scoff that wants to come out. His own brown eyes rest on the single ring that rested against his tanned skin. "That fucking stupid bastard… he promised me that he would come home today safely. Stupid Spaniard never goes back on a promise… well, until today…" Something between a snuff and a sniffle and he reached up to wipe a tear from his eyes. "I fucking hate this war…"

"Everyone, everyone is gone… _GOD._" The blonde mumbles, as if finally realizing that. Matthew suddenly drops to the ground and stays like that, hiding his face and the tears that are just starting. The Italian standing next to him settles down to the space next to him and rubs soothing circles against his skin. "Everyone is gone… except for me. I wish that I could've died in his place…"

A hint of hesitation and the circles start back up. "I know how you feel…"

A high pitched scream snapped both men from their miseries and Matthew watches as the men that was next to him jump up and run to the one that looks exactly like him.

"Lovino! W-What happened!?"

"Sssssh, calm down Feli—"

"Ludwig! How is he!? I-Is he safe!?"

And that was where Matthew tried his best to tune out the conversation, but try as he might he couldn't mute the heart-wrenching scream that echoed throughout the area.

Was it his scream?

Or was it not?

Does it really matter?

"I'm sorry for being alive…" He mumbles into his arm, a habit he will keep on saying. He has always been complaining softly and quietly, a boring existence…

* * *

He started living in a small chapel near the harbor, a place of solitude, and a place where nobody will mind his meaningless and boring existence. It was a quiet place where he could complain all he want, mourn all he want, and wish for this damn war to end with all his heart.

Then a rumor got to him. Nestled deep in the sofa, blue-violet eyes gazed in wonderment at the television in front of him. Was it true? Was it really true? Was it true that the King had died in the revolution? The tears pouring down his face told him that —yes— it was true.

And that was the day that Matthew met him near the chapel. A tall man with blonde hair plastered to his face by the rain, lying unconscious on his side. Pulling off his cloak, he wrapped the body in the warmth and tried his best to carry the poor man into shelter.

Before long, they became very close. But that man and he, they were very different.

He was a tall man at a staggering six feet while Matthew was shorter, standing only at five feet and seven inches. He had a long and elegant nose while Matthew had a skinny and slender nose that turned up a bit at the end. His violet eyes sparkle with a childlike wonder as he peers around in the world, but Matthew's blue and purple ones can't unsee that day at the mansion…

Carrying downy blankets in his arm, Matthew passes by the empty confession box at night. It was there that he overheard the man's confession. Tears prickle and sting his eyes and his knees buckle. Memories of _that_ day flash through his mind, leaving him dizzy and nauseous. It couldn't be true, it's couldn't be true, please don't let it be true. Ah, how can this be? He is indeed, the son of Evil.

In the harbor at the edge of town, there stands a lonely man. The scarf wrapped around his neck flutters in the wind like a clipped bird and in his meaty palm was a message in the bottle. Matthew wraps himself up warmly before leaving the chapel. He comes up from behind him, quietly like a panther in the night. He takes a knife out from his pocket and points it at the man's back. And he swings it up.

The loud ringing of the church bells wakes him up. Matthew struggles to sit up, fighting against the remaining sleep that resides in his system. His hand gropes blindly along the bed stand for his glasses before it finds it and grips it. He wipes some of the sleep from his eyes before slipping his glasses on. Looking back at the bed stand, he sees a picture of his husband smiling at him, his red eyes glinting with mischievous intent. Matthew smiles one of his own sad ones before picking it up.

"There's something I have to apologize to you, I couldn't take your revenge. He is the boy I was back then. A very, very lonely boy." The look on his face softens and he could feel tears trying to overpower him. "Living all alone is very sad…"

* * *

"Matvey! Matvey! I think my pancakes are better, _da_?" Ivan calls from where he stood in front of the stove, scraping his pancakes out of the pan and onto a plate. He blows some of the heat off of them before handing them over to his blonde companion. Matthew smiles at him before cutting a piece off and placing it carefully into his mouth (he learned from past experiences that Ivan wasn't the best cook…) and slowly chewed. He smiled. "You improved a little in your cooking…" He noted, cutting off another piece before shoving it into his waiting mouth. "The brioche you made for snack was baked very well by the way."

The smiles from the shining face of Ivan are the only kind of smiles Matthew gets nowadays and he has grown to really appreciate it. A quick embrace and Ivan walks off to wash the dishes, leaving behind a blonde who watched in silence as Ivan's broad shoulders disappear behind the corner.

_At the moment, at the harbor, Gilbert… I saw an illusion. I wonder who that girl was…?_

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_Notes: The thing about Matthew's eyes, they're the only ones that I described as having two colors. Everybody else had plain old blue, red, brown, green, etc. In the song, Haku is an outcast because of her white hair (everybody in the village has green hair) and I needed something to fit into that. I think somewhere along the line though, I made two-color-mixed eyes like... cursed or something. If you're familiar with the Daughter of Evil series, I think you know which characters play which part._

_I fail at explaining Mattie's eye color, so I'm gonna try again. Mattie's eye color is a combination of two different colors (blue and violet). Everybody else's eye color is only one color (green or blue, etc). Is that more clear?_


End file.
